


Haikyuu!! Week 2016

by FairyLights101



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gen, Haikyuu Week, M/M, Other, Post-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine fills for Haikyuu!! Week including: the first year squad as third years, skating rink dates, long-distance phone calls, and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Excitement  
> Akaaken (I absolutely adore it, please spam me with it on my tumblr)  
> SFW

Akaashi scrolled through Kenma’s blog with slow flicks of his finger, the muted glow of the screen bright in the dark. Kenma had already fallen asleep on him - the last text had been well over an hour ago, but Akaashi couldn't sleep, and that had landed him on tumblr at nearly one AM.  _ I'm surprised he fell asleep first. Must have been that gaming marathon from the weekend _ . He smiled to himself as he slid through the slew of posts Kenma had reblogged. Kenma’s blog was a variety of things: anime gifs, a few of which he recognized; photos of people playing volleyball, particularly setters; a handful of cat pictures and videos; some games they'd played together. 

But there was one in particular that cropped up on his blog and in his tags with startling frequency - nearly every other post featured it, something he realized at first from Kenma’s rigorous tags, then from the similar style of animation and art. A new release for the  _ Legend of Zelda _ series.  _ He mentioned that earlier, and I know he really likes those games. _ Kenma could talk about the series for hours - Akaashi had witnessed it himself on more than one occasion. The first time had started him. Kenma spoke just a little more than he did, so it had been strange at first. But Akaashi could vividly recall the way his gold eyes had brightened, how his fingers had ceased their nervous twitching, how he'd smiled faintly as he'd gone over lore and plots Akaashi had been utterly clueless about. 

_ I want to see that smile again _ . 

Not that he didn't see it on a regular occasion. Kenma always had a smile for him, but to see that sweet excitement again - he  _ wanted _ that. Akaashi hummed to himself as he opened up his Internet and typed out the game's title. Pre-orders had already been placed. The game itself released in a week, thankfully on the weekend. The teen nibbled on his lips for a moment. His parents probably wouldn't mind, especially if he told them it was for Kenma, and it wasn't like he would neglect his schoolwork just to go. With a tiny smile he closed out of the Internet and opened up a new message.

**Akaashi: Do you want to go to the game store this weekend? That new Legend of Zelda game is coming out**

When he woke that morning a text waited on him, and it tugged a faint smile to his lips as he opened it up.

**Kenma: are you sure you want to go? it's not like you're going to get anything**

Akaashi smiled at the text as he stretched, the early dawn light soft on his face. He wasn't particularly ready to even think of school, but waking up with a text from Kenma was a good way to start the day.

**Akaashi: Yeah. I'll have to ask, but it'll probably be okay to go**

**Kenma: thank you**

**Akaashi: No problem Kenma**

Kenma didn't message back, but Akaashi didn't worry - the blond wasn't really one for messages, particularly so early in the morning. And he groaned quietly to himself as he summoned the willpower necessary to crawl out of his bed to start his day.

* * *

 

Akaashi adjusted his scarf as the bus rolled to a stop outside of the mall they'd agreed to meet at, nerves tingling in his stomach. It had been a while since they'd seen each other, nearly a month because of school and volleyball practices and matches, and Akaashi was jittery.  _ I hope it's a touch day. I want to hold his hand _ . The thought of that embarrassed him - he'd never been one for gestures like that, but Kenma’s hands and kisses were something special, and he always craved more. 

The bus shuddered to a stop and he wormed his way through the crowd until he stepped off with a sigh of relief and a shiver at the plunge in temperature. Akaashi moved away from the bus stop and towards the entrance where a familiar small teen stood, a black cat-eared beanie on his head and ear buds in he focused on his phone, fingers frantic on the keys. A game maybe, or a text to Kuroo. “Hey Kenma.” 

Slender fingers stilled as gold eyes flicked up, and then Kenma’s impassive face melted into a tiny smile, excitement and the cold coloring his cheeks. “Morning Keiji.” The blond pocketed his phone, and reached out for Akaashi before he could even make a move. His hand was cold, and Kenma smiled wryly when Akaashi narrowed his eyes. “Gloves make it harder to play games.” 

“You still need your fingers.” 

Kenma snorted, but he didn't say anything else. He just tugged on Akaashi's hand and moved towards the entrance, nearly vibrating with his eagerness.  _ Cute _ . There weren't too many people out - the cold had dissuaded plenty of them, but not die hard fans - Akaashi saw more gamer shirts that usual, and most of them headed in the direction of Gamestop. 

“Did you preorder it?” 

“Mhm. You get special things if you do. With the remakes it gave you game boosts or different levels and stuff, though no one's quite sure what this one will do since it's a new game. I'm sure it'll be good though.” 

Akaashi smiled and squeezed Kenma’s hand. The blond squeezed back, and though he didn't look up he did smile. And that little smile made Akaashi's heart flutter as they edged their way into the shop. They fell into the sizeable line and pressed close, not that doing so would do much to stop the jostling or the chatter or the foul body odor. Still, it was worth it, particularly when Kenma pressed back against him, as close as he could possibly be, their hands still clasped together. Kenma reached for his other a moment later and settled their hands on his stomach with a soft, pleased him. “We should lie under the kotatsu when we get home.” 

“I agree. It would be nice.” 

Kenma tipped his head back, and the excitement that danced in his golden eyes was too much for Akaashi. He ducked down and pressed a chaste kiss to Kenma’s forehead. The blond flushed, but he didn't look peeved or nervous about it, and so Akaashi pressed another kiss to Kenma’s temple before he pulled back, a tiny smile on his lips. The line slowly shifted forwards, and Kenma and Akaashi remained pressed close until they finally reached the front. Kenma was obviously reluctant to release him, or even step away from his warm embrace, and that made Akaashi's stomach bubble with satisfaction as Kenma hesitantly stepped up and muttered out his request. 

It was painfully obvious that he couldn't have escaped soon enough from the social contact, but the moment he had everything handed over to him he lit up and dashed over to Akaashi. The setter couldn't deny that he was a little jealous of the game - Kenma’s attention was entirely focused on it, and his excitement danced across his face, subtle but all too precious. Especially the little smile that curled his lips when he glanced up at Akaashi. “My house is closer and my parents are out.” 

“Let's go then.” 

He wasn't even upset that they had so much time alone curled up beneath a kotatsu, most of which was spent watching Kenma plunge into the game. It was well worth it, especially with those little smiles he flashed at Akaashi every few minutes before he settled back against his chest or in his lap. And Akaashi had more than enough fun petting Kenma’s soft hair as he watched and snuck kisses as he watched his boyfriend play his heart out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Favorites  
> NSFW  
> Bokuto/Kuroo/Daichi/Oikawa

Daichi couldn't remember how it had begun, only that it had become a regular occurrence, particularly when they had all four teams face off in practice matches. Somehow they always managed to convince him to have a captains’ meeting and from there it all went downhill. Or perhaps uphill - it was quite comfortable after all. 

Tetsuro had claimed his thighs as a pillow, and his soft, warm breaths puffed across the skin where his shorts had ridden up. His fingers traced faint, slow paths along the muscles. Sometimes the Nekoma player would trace his muscles, sometimes he would draw erratically - this time it was the latter. Daichi had long since given up on divining exactly  _ what _ he was drawing. To him it was just loops and spirals, but it seemed to make sense to Tetsuro because he would occasionally laugh and the path would falter for a few seconds before it resumed again. 

Koutarou had managed to sprawl across Daichi and Tetsuro as always one leg over Tetsuro’s waist and his head pillowed on Daichi's stomach. He had a firm hold on one of Daichi's hands, their fingers tightly laced together overtop his hip. Well, it had been. Daichi had wiggled his hand free of Koutarou’s grip so he could stroke the warm skin of his hip. Sometimes if he was feeling particularly daring, he'd let his fingers drift further down and tease the edge of his waistband. That, more often than not, resulted in the two eccentric captains pinning him down and teasing him in return while Tooru tackled his neck. Daichi made sure to keep his hand firmly planted on Koutarou’s hip. He wasn't entirely sure his ass could handle a repeat of the week before, not so soon. 

But it was still nice, particularly with how Tooru squirmed a little closer into his side, their bodies molded together. The brunet’s cheek was pressed against his chest, just below his collarbone, and he'd thrown a hand across Daichi so that his fingers touched Daichi's bicep. That itself was a rarity since Tooru, always a devil in disguise, often found the need to put his hand over Daichi's heart - and, conveniently enough, his nipple as well. But, perhaps what was most surprising, was that the other captains were  _ tame _ . No groping, no sexual innuendos, not even a rowdy joke. Just peaceful silence. 

Daichi wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it, but it was hard to find it anything but pleasant. It just felt like something was missing when Tetsuro’s hand wasn't dangerously close to his groin, Koutarou wasn't touching his ass, and Tooru wasn't tweaking his nipple. But he settled back with a smile anyway, one hand tangled in Tooru’s soft hair and a content smile on his lips. It lasted for a long while, that blissful, easy, comfortable silence.

And then Tetsuro’s fingers nudged the bottom of his shorts up on the leg he didn't occupy. His fingers were warm, but Daichi still shivered when the fingers trailed across one hickey, then another. “Tetsuro…” he murmured, and the captain twisted his head so he could smirk at Daichi. 

He thumbed the bruise again and bit his lip, tugged on it a little as he flashed Daichi that suave smile - the one that was totally misleading from his dorky nature. “Dai,” he purred, and the other two captains shifted so they could peek at him too, sneaky smiles on their lips. 

“What is it, Dai,” Tooru sang quietly as his hand shifted, and he lightly dragged his nails across Daichi's chest, right over his nipple. The captain shuddered, and Koutarou and Tetsuro threw their heads back, boisterous, light laughter bubbling up. 

Koutarou patted his chest as he wiggled and shifted until his face was centimeters away from Daichi's. His gold eyes glittered with mirth, and his smile was a radiant flash of white. He didn't have a chance to think before Koutarou leaned in and pressed a kiss on his nose with an exaggerated smack of his lips, though he was prepared when the white-haired teen kissed him. He grabbed a handful of white and black hair and hummed against Koutarou’s mouth as the other teen nipped and licked his way in, the entrance easy. 

Fingers skittered across his collarbone and warm puffs of air whispered across his neck. Definitely Tooru, because Tetsuro was occupied with nipping at the skin above his waistband. Daichi tugged Koutarou away after indulging him for a moment so he could speak - he had to ignore the pout that was sent his way though. "You know,” he huffed, “We could just  _ sleep _ .” 

Tooru chuckled against his neck and nipped lightly before he skimmed his lips along Daichi's jaw. “We could,” he murmured, voice abruptly deeper, harsher, “Or we could fuck you until you can't even speak because you feel so good. Until you scream your voice away.” Daichi shuddered as heat pooled in his gut at the words, unavoidable and uncontrollable. Tetsuro smirked against his stomach as Koutarou and Tooru sucked and bit at his neck. Tooru’s mouth was slow, languid, and his nips were sharp but quick, and Koutarou’s were harsher, quicker, full of hard sucks and rough bites. And, all together, they had Daichi trembling as he dug his nails into the nearest arm and back. 

His hips twitched up before he could stop them, but he wasn't entirely sure he cared, especially when Tetsuro’s fingers curled beneath his waistband and tugged. Someone's hand - probably Koutarou’s - shoved his shirt up, and one mouth detached from his neck - Tooru. He nudged Koutarou’s hand aside and nipped at Daichi's chest, just above his nipple. The captain choked on a tiny little sound, and Koutarou laughed into his neck. “Don't worry, Daichi,” he murmured with a quick drag of his tongue along Daichi's pulse. “You can make all the noise you want. No one but us is gonna hear it.” 

He nodded, but he still clamped down on his tongue when Tetsuro tossed his shorts and boxers to the side and instantly lunged back in. He didn't give Daichi a chance to prepare himself, just wrapped one hand around his length as he buried his mouth against Daichi's thigh, a wide grin just visible on his face. The captain didn't move his hand, just rubbed his thumb along the slit and shot wicked grins at Daichi between harsh bites and sucks to the insides of thighs. It only took a moment to make Daichi's legs tremble, and he gasped into Koutarou’s spiky hair and tugged on Tooru’s hair. 

That only encouraged those two, and Tooru bit harder at his nipple as he tweaked the other. The pinches and nips and roll of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure up and down Daichi's spine, and he couldn't breathe right. Tooru hitched a leg over Daichi's side and, propped up on one arm, he started to grind against Daichi's hip, his length hard and twitching. His breaths and touches stuttered, but every roll of his hips meant another bite that made Daichi huff out a low groan as his body twisted and shook. 

Somewhere in the midst of that Koutarou caught his hand, tugged it out of his hair, slid beneath his waistband, and pulled it down to his crotch. Koutarou curled their hands over his cock, hot and slick at the tip, and his breath hitched. “Please, Dai?” he rasped. All Daichi could do was nod because Koutarou buried their mouths together before he could respond. He licked his way into Daichi's mouth, demanding and certain, and Daichi just opened up beneath him, weak to his touches. 

Their hands made him tremble, made him lose all paths of thought because the world narrowed down to the way Koutarou bucked into his hand with breathy little grunts of his name between bites and how Tooru sucked at his chest and rolled his hips against him and the way Tetsuro’s lips stretched around him and how he moved his tongue and dragged his nails along the inside of Daichi's right thigh. It all dissolved until all he had left was the pleasure that made him thrash beneath three hot bodies and the blaze in his stomach that made him buck up harder and harder into Tetsuro’s mouth, made his hand stutter on Koutarou’s cock. 

Daichi gasped and choked on their names as they tore him apart, wrecked him. His back bowed up, legs quivering, as the tightness in his stomach snapped and he came, mouth slack and eyes clamped shut. His hand stuttered on Koutarou’s cock, but somehow he kept it moving as he choked on the end of a moan as his hips rocked up weakly into Tetsuro’s mouth. The captain swallowed around him as he slowly pulled back with a hum, then pulled off with a lick to the tip that made Daichi whimper. 

Soothing fingers rubbed across his hip, and Tooru gently rolled against him with a heated breath. “Hey, Dai,” he whispered, voice low and rough, “Can I cum on you?” 

He couldn't even speak, just nodded, breathless, and Tooru grinned at him as he rose into a crouch and moved overtop Daichi so that he straddled his chest, almost in his face. His shorts and boxers were down around one ankle, his cock hard and glistening at the tip, and Tooru grinned at him as he took it into his hand and slowly started to pump. 

“Tooru, not fair,” Koutarou grumbled, but he was up there in a flash, gold eyes bright and wide. “Daichi!” 

He didn't bother to say anything, just grabbed Koutarou by his shirt and tugged him in as he raised his head. It took a moment to situate him, but then Koutarou settled just in front of Tooru, his lower half over Daichi's face and curled overtop of him. Daichi kept his eyes on Koutarou as he kissed the underside of his cock, and then he opened his mouth so that Koutarou could slid into Daichi's loose throat. It was heavy, hot, felt good in his mouth, and Daichi hummed around it as he kept his eyes on Koutarou as the white-haired captain slowly pressed further in. When he was fully inside Koutarou finally released his lip from his teeth and a low moan rumbled out. “S-shit, Dai…” All he could do was hum and weakly drag his tongue along some of Koutarou’s length before he pulled back. 

As he did a hand linked with his, and he could just barely see Tetsuro as he tugged Daichi's hand over and settled it onto his length as he knelt beside Daichi's head. He started to pump Tetsuro’s length, didn't even have to be coaxed, and a new ragged gasp filled the air. Daichi couldn't even smile, his mouth stuffed full and stretched wide, and he couldn't quite think beyond the rock of bodies. Tooru would circle down onto his chest and, just barely, Daichi could see him dig his teeth into Koutarou’s shoulder. 

Tetsuro had dragged the white-haired captain over at some point and slotted their mouths together, burying their moans and whimpers as they thrust into his hand and mouth. He wasn't entirely sure how long it lasted, just that Koutarou abruptly pulled out and took his slick length into his hand. A few quick pumps of his hand made him cum on Daichi's face with a tremor and a rough grunt. Daichi just blindly reached up and squeezed his hip as he licked a little off his lips, and Koutarou flashed him a dazed smile before he sagged off to the side. 

Tooru was there in an instant, his cheeks flushed and eyes heavily lidded. “Daichi,” he purred, and the roughness in his voice made Daichi shudder. “Daichi, you look so good like this.” “You look better.” Tooru flashed him a grin, but it was nowhere near as cocky as normal. His face twisted after a few seconds, and his ragged pants changed into a soft moan as he came as well, hot and thick across Daichi's chest and face. He didn't move much, just sagged down onto Daichi's chest with a content, blissed expression. 

A grunt pulled his eyes away from Tooru, back to Tetsuro, who had curled over Daichi's hand, one palm on the floor to steady himself as he rocked up into his hand. Daichi couldn't find words, couldn't even speak - he just swept his finger along the tip and twisted his hand as he dragged his hand down. Tetsuro’s entire body hitched as he came, a garbled cry of Daichi's name on his lips and his face twisted with pleasure. He trembled for a few moments before he sagged down, straight onto Daichi's chest, with a soft hum.

And then their earlier positions returned, reshuffled. Tooru claimed a thigh and turned his face to Daichi, a pleased little smile on his lips. Koutarou curled into Daichi's side, except his head was propped on Tooru’s thigh and his own leg was beneath Daichi's head. Tetsuro pressed his cheek over Daichi's heart on the other side, and he had a big, cocky grin on his face. And, like that, Daichi lost his breath all over again for some insane, illogical reason. He dropped one hand to Koutarou’s thigh, the other to Tetsuro’s hair, and hummed quietly, content. Their breathing filled the silence, a little heavy but still nice. And then Tetsuro let out a little laugh. “Maybe we should just go ahead and call these fucking sessions instead of cuddle sessions or captain meetings.” 

Daichi just sighed as the other two captains laughed, though even he couldn't deny the legitimacy of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I haven't got a clue as to what the ship name for these dorks are, or the combinations of such. Ah well


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Words  
> SFW  
> Iwaizumi/Oikawa

He’d never realized how lively and full the apartment was. Not until Oikawa was gone, off doing God knew what in America for some hotshot volleyball team. Iwaizumi was bitter, so much that it churned his stomach and left him nauseous as he drifted through the little place they’d turned into a home. Without Oikawa’s bubbly personality to fill every space until it felt impossible to breathe, there was something missing. It felt  _ empty _ . And Iwaizumi didn’t like it. 

It sent chills up his spine, and he found himself turning, mouth open and words hanging on his tongue, only to remember a moment too late that Oikawa wasn’t there. That he was hours and kilometers and a sea away, off with guys from some American universities and professional teams so they could learn his killer serve and the pinpoint tosses he’d perfected in his own college years. And Iwaizumi had remained home. He’d thought he’d be content there, finally alone with a chance to breathe away from Oikawa. 

Yet it didn’t feel right, and that was far too pronounced when he woke up to a cold, empty bed. When he came home from work and found the TV blank where those stupid alien and sci-fi movies would play, painfully and obnoxiously constant. When he laid down on the couch and there was no warm, solid body to flop down on him almost instantly - just as he did then. With a heavy sigh Iwaizumi peeled away from the back of the couch and rolled onto his back, paused, then onto his side. Nothing felt quite right, no position quite fit. His hand clenched around his phone, then slackened.  _ Just call him already, you idiot _ . 

It wasn’t hard - Oikawa was his only speed-dial, and he knew that it was too late for practice. Well, for official practice anyways. There had been more than a few occasions where he’d been forced to stick around after practice until it grew so late that he forcibly dragged Oikawa home, or times where he’d woken up and found Oikawa lying in bed, a ball cradled in his hands, though he flicked it up every so often, and then when he realized he’d woken Iwaizumi he flashed apologetic grins at him with excuses of “I couldn’t sleep, but I can’t go to the gym since you’re here, Iwa.” 

Iwaizumi groaned quietly to himself and tapped at his phone. Oikawa’s contact screen teased him, a picture that Oikawa had taken a few weeks ago. He had the habit of stealing Iwaizumi’s phone and changing his pictures or taking dozens more, which was always the most likely thing to happen. Not that he particularly minded. Besides, it made his heart thump a little faster to see that jubilant, if a bit cocky, smile that curled Oikawa’s lips and the way his hazel eyes lit up, excited and still strangely hungry, though even Iwaizumi wasn’t entirely sure what exactly Oikawa was hungry for. Just that sometimes his eyes would light up like that, reminiscent of Hinata, and Iwaizumi would shake his head, breathless. 

Iwaizumi thumbed the screen, poked at the picture until it filled his screen.  _ Stupid Oikawa _ . And yet he tapped the call button, pressed the phone to his ear. One ring. Two. A third-  _ “Yahoo! Iwa, my love!” _

Iwaizumi groaned quietly, theatrically, but he smiled to himself. “Hey, shit-head.” 

Oikawa made an offended little noise, and something in the background rustled.  _ “So mean, Iwa! Jeez, I guess distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder at all, even after three weeks!” _

The words made Iwaizumi’s chest tighten. Three weeks, twenty-two days if you counted the day he’d gone out on the flight. Three weeks too long - far too long. “I miss you.” The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them, before he could wait so he didn’t interrupt Oikawa. 

Instantly Oikawa’s chatter cut off, faded to silence. There was a little huff, kind of like laughter, and Iwaizumi could imagine the kind of smile Oikawa probably wore - a small one, humorless but sweet.  _ “I miss you too, Ji-Ji.” _

The nickname made his cheeks flush as he nestled into the couch with a hum. “How much, Tooru?” 

_ “I couldn’t stop thinking about you yesterday. I was up until one thinking about you. It’s throwing my game off. I wanna see you.” _

“I do too,” he whispered. Oikawa made a happy little sound, and his smile was probably absolutely  _ radiant _ .  _ I want to see it. _ “At least you’ve only got two more weeks.” 

_ “I know,” _ Oikawa whined, but he laughed a little almost immediately.  _ “Two more weeks without me - I bet you’re loving that!” _

“Absolutely.”  _ I’m hating it. _ And he knew Oikawa did too. He heard it in the gap of silence between his next words, in the heavy exhale. 

_ “I wish you could be here right now. It’s no fun sleeping without you. I couldn’t even watch ‘War of the Worlds’ with the team the other day. Ji-Ji… I wish you’d come.” _

“Me too.” But Oikawa’s tickets had been paid for and his boss had been more than eager to clear it, unlike Iwaizumi’s, who scowled every time he asked for a day, even two months in advance. “Maybe next time.” 

_ “You’d better! I’m not dealing with these goofs without you again!” _

He hummed a little, squeezed his phone. He wanted Oikawa’s fingers to be there, wanted Oikawa’s body to be draped all over him. Not in the middle of America, somewhere that he couldn’t reach or see. “Hey, Tooru?” 

_ “Mhm?” _

“You’d better hurry up and get back here.” 

_ “I will, Hajime. Don’t worry. I’ll come off that airplane in two weeks and you’ll sweep me off the floor and I’ll kiss you! And then we won’t leave the apartment all week!” _

“Sounds good to me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Burdens  
> Bokuaka  
> Child abuse/neglect, depression, self harm

The ring hadn't even faded into the air when Akaashi jerked the door open and met Bokuto with wide arms and a softened version of his normal unreadable expression. That was all Bokuto managed to glimpse before his head was buried into a neck and he was dragged into a tight hug, though his own arms were limp, weak. Akaashi's arms were warm, and his body was solid, and Bokuto sagged into it without a second thought, too drained to give a damn. 

A large hand settled in his hair and swept the limp locks back, scratched at his scalp until Bokuto made a tiny noise, a concession of pleasure - and of weakness. The cheek he'd pressed his own against twitched up into a little smile, even more so when Bokuto pushed his head back into Akaashi's hand and when his arms circled around and settled on the small of Akaashi's back. They stood there for the longest time, the door wide open and the warm summer air heavy on their skin, bugs droning and birds chirping in the distance. 

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he finally forced himself to drop the hug so Akaashi could pull him in and close the door. When he took his shoes off and allowed Akaashi to lead him further in he wasn't surprised to see both of his parents wide awake, never mind the fact that it was nearly one in the morning. There were four mugs of hot cocoa set around the table and a plate of cookies and some sandwiches in the center - the sight and smells only made Bokuto’s stomach gurgle, a painful reminder that he hadn't eaten since before practice on Friday - since Friday morning in reality. It was Sunday night. 

Akaashi's mom just patted Bokuto’s usual chair and he sank into it with a tiny smile as warmth pooled in his cold chest. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” she said simply, and both she and her husband flashed him warm smiles. There were questions in their eyes, but they simply watched as Akaashi passed them each a sandwich - he knew, they all knew that he couldn't take one by himself, the anxiety too much to fight. But when Akaashi set it in front of him Bokuto allowed himself to pick it up and, after everyone else had taken a bite, he took a bite himself. It felt strange on his stomach, but he knew it was good, necessary. So they ate in silence, a heavy, pregnant one that was uncomfortable yet not, because he knew that they  _ knew _ , but they were also  _ family _ . They were  _ safe _ . And that gave him the courage to finish one sandwich, then another, as he sipped on sweet cocoa and hooked his and Akaashi's ankles together. 

His stomach ached by the time he stopped eating, but Akaashi's mom looked pleased, even through the worry. When he finally sank back and pulled one leg into his chest, jacket loose around him, her hands loosened around her mug, and her husband shifted forwards. “Koutarou-” 

“Please,” he whispered, “Not… not right now.” His cheek still ached, and even the sweet taste of cocoa couldn't remove the taste of blood from his tongue. Even the way Akaashi stroked the back of his hand couldn't distract him from the way he'd bitten his nails short and blood, but not before he'd dug his nails into his thighs and left long scores of red because he'd been so  _ desperate _ . 

They glanced at each other, but they nodded and rose. “Go to bed soon, alright? We'll make you something good in the morning.” 

He nodded and watched as they cleared the table, as they disappeared down the dark hall to their room. Akaashi let him sit there for a few minutes before he gently tugged Bokuto up. Their feet were silent on the floorboards as Akaashi nudged him to the bathroom and pressed a towel into his hands. Bokuto went through the motions - they'd done this more than enough. Too often. And he knew Akaashi hated it. Not the way Bokuto always came to him for help, but because Bokuto refused to say anything, to let anyone know. Hell, Akaashi finding out had been a total accident.  _ Still _ . He washed himself, almost mechanical, and crept out. Akaashi had spared him this time - his spare clothes were in the bathroom, not in the bedroom.  _ Good _ . He didn't particularly want Akaashi to see what had happened earlier. 

He dressed quickly and crept out, towel clutched in his hand. Akaashi was perched on his bed, legs curled up into his chest and eyes on the door. The younger teen patted the bed beside him and Bokuto crawled in without hesitation. 

Soft hands took the towel from him and draped it over his damp hair. Akaashi was gentle as he dried Bokuto’s hair, even more so when he set the towel aside and tugged Bokuto down on the bed. A blanket was twitched up until it settled up to their shoulders and a firm chest pressed to his back. He could feel Akaashi breathe, could feel his heart beat, slow and steady. A hand curled over his. Bokuto turned his hand over with a soft sound and Akaashi smiled faintly into the nape of his neck. 

“Thank you for coming.” 

Those words made Bokuto want to  _ cry _ .  _ He _ should have been the one thanking Akaashi, not the other way around. But he couldn't form words, let alone speak, and Akaashi understand that because his hand tightened over Bokuto’s. “Bokuto… I'm glad you came.” 

_ Me too _ . He mouthed the words into the pillow, felt his chest slowly loosen. Enough that when he fell asleep all he felt was the steadiness of Akaashi's embrace and the tickle of his breath.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Bonds  
> Canonverse, Kagehina, SFW

“I can't fucking believe him.” Kageyama tugged on the handcuff again with an irritated huff. “How could he drop the key? And then  _ lose it _ ?” 

“I don’t know,” Hinata mumbled, his head firmly tucked between his knees. 

Kageyama wasn’t entirely sure how long ago he’d put his head there, just that it had been a while. Hinata had been pale for the longest time, then blood-red, particularly when Tanaka and Noya had disappeared with panicked looks. That event had been well over half an hour ago, and they’d dropped the key ten minutes before that.  _ When they hell are they gonna get back? _ He wasn’t even sure where they’d gotten the handcuffs, or where they’d gone, just that Noya had slapped the cuffs around their wrists as Tanaka had grinned a few feet away, the tiny key clutched in his palm. Right up until Kageyama had lunged at him and the key had flown out of Tanaka’s grasp, right down a storm drain. 

“Fucking hell,” the setter whispered, and Hinata only buried his face further into the crook of his arms and between his knees. The spiker made a tiny little sound that Kageyama couldn’t even begin to identify, let alone react to, so he sighed again. “They’ll be back soon. Maybe.” 

“Maybe,” Hinata whispered, voice rough. 

That made Kageyama freeze, and he glanced down at Hinata, eyes narrowed. His cheeks were flushed red and the eye he could see was clenched shut. Hinata’s lips were stretched thin into a grimace, and as Kageyama watched Hinata worried his lip and mouthed something to himself before his mouth shut firmly once more. “Oi, idiot.” 

Hinata didn’t open his eyes, didn’t look up. Just remained hunched over his knees, the grip of his right hand in his hair so tight that his knuckles were white. His other hand was balled up into a fist as well, though it dangled, only held aloft by Kageyama’s hand and the metal cuffs and links that bound them together. Kageyama frowned and jiggled it, though Hinata’s arm only limply jostled along. “What the hell is wrong with you?” The energy that bursted from Hinata almost every second was strangely absent, and he looked lethargic.

“Are you sick?” Hinata just shook his head, though he didn't pull his head up or even crack his eyes open. Kageyama scowled, but he let his hand drop as he sagged back against the wall. Truthfully, the situation wasn't particularly good. The school was empty - perhaps a weekend practice hadn't been the best of choices - and it was dark. If they wandered around cuffed together they'd be more likely to get a door slammed in their face or the cops called on them rather than a pair of bolt cutters. 

And then there was Hinata. He looked positively  _ pitiful _ , and it made Kageyama’s chest twist as he stared.  _ What's wrong with him? _ Sickness was the first guess, but Hinata normally voiced complaints when he felt ill, and he'd barely spoken a word since the second years had abandoned them in search of bolt cutters. He couldn't possibly have been tired because he'd been bursting with energy after they'd finished practice, and even when they'd initially been cuffed together. 

_ Maybe he really does hate me _ . 

Kageyama had changed a lot - at least, that was what he thought. Even others had verified that.  _ Maybe I'm just not a good setter, and maybe he hates that. Or maybe he just likes me when we're on the court practicing or playing _ . Kageyama swallowed hard and pressed his free hand to his forehead. He didn't want to see Hinata so upset, didn't want Hinata to  _ hate _ him. If anything, he wanted the  _ opposite _ .  _ Looks like that happened anyway _ . Words tingled on his tongue, burned his lips, and he turned away, dragged down a quiet, shaky breath.  _ Don't say it _ . 

“Hinata?” 

He hummed, and Kageyama firmly buried his face into his palm. His nails dug into his scalp dragged at his forehead. “Do you hate me?” 

His hand jerked, and Kageyama peeked to the side. Hinata had finally raised his head, and there was an arm print on his forehead, and his eyes were blown wide. The spiker had jerked his hand up, and the hand had slackened. There were nail imprints on his palm, deep and harsh, and Kageyama wanted to snatch his hand up and cradle it between his own. But he held himself still, breathless, as they stared at each other. “W-what?” 

“Do you hate me?” The words tasted foul on his tongue, but he said them anyway. This time it was his hand that tightened up. “You look like you'd rather be losing a match. You've avoided me for the last few weeks. You don't even ask me for tosses after practice anymore. Last time it easy because I was trying to perfect my toss for you… so have I done something to make you mad? Is my toss shit?” 

Hinata gaped at him, and his mouth moved, formed words that were nonsensical, unheard. A soft exhale. And he -  _ shit _ , there were tears in his eyes. Kageyama couldn't breathe, couldn't think, but all he could do was stare as Hinata tried to find words, the chain tight between their hands. “Kageyama… I… I don't hate you.” 

“Then why?” 

“B-because-” He cut his words off with a sharp click of his teeth. Hinata’s cheeks were darker than his hair, and the blood red only spread as Kageyama watched. Up to his ears. Down to his neck. “I… because…  _ I like you, okay _ ?” 

That sent a shock through his system, made him freeze, made them  _ both _ freeze. Blue and gold eyes wide, locked on each other. He knew Hinata wanted to flee, that he wanted to bolt - he could see it in the way Hinata’s eyes flicked, in how his body tensed. And then he went slack. There was no way he could escape, not with their hands locked together. And Kageyama didn't want him to run. 

“Hinata…” The spiker flinched at his voice, and again when Kageyama raised his free hand. His gold eyes screwed shut and he leaned back as far as he possibly could. And Kageyama’s chest bottomed out, constricted, even as he scooted closer and pressed his hand to Hinata’s face. A twitch, uncertain.

“Hinata. Look at me.” 

Hesitantly his eyes slowly cracked open, and a tear trickled out as Hinata sniffed pathetically. “Hinata… don't cry.” He couldn't cover it with words, couldn't think. He just  _ did _ . And Hinata’s mouth trembled beneath his when he kissed him, just a light press of his lips. It took a second for Hinata to move, to throw his arm around Kageyama’s neck - and that made heat drench his chest as he leaned closer and pressed their foreheads together. “You  _ idiot _ .” 

“Shut up.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - Ladies  
> Canonverse, Kiyoyachi, SFW

Yachi shifted, nerves clamoring at her stomach and throat, as she surveyed the crowd. All of the faces were unfamiliar - that was the price of being a city over - and that sucked because there was only one she really wanted to see. “This is what I get,” she mumbled to herself as she tightened her grasp on her pocketbook. “Forty minutes early… stupid me.” But she was so  _ nervous _ . 

She’d never been on a date before, never even considered it between all of her studies and babysitting for her neighbors until she’d met Kiyoko, and after that her thoughts had been totally consumed. And yet Kiyoko had been the one to ask her out, something that had nearly made Yachi collapse in shock before she’d nodded vigorously and stuttered out a yes, her voice shrill with excitement and panic. She still didn’t know what they were going to do, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care much - just the thought of spending time with Kiyoko made her want to shake herself to pieces. Yachi fiddled nervously with her hair pin as she glanced around again, teeth in her lip. 

“Yachi.” 

The blonde spun around as a smile instantly grew, bright and easy, even though her stomach twisted with nerves. “Hi, Kiyoko,” she chirped, and though she didn’t mean to she ended up ogling Kiyoko anyways. Kiyoko’s hair was piled high on her head in an elegantly messy bun. She wore a simple light pink sweater and a black skirt that stopped above her knees with see-through tights and black stars stitched into them, and the sight made Yachi’s mouth go dry. Yachi was definitely thankful that her mouth stayed shut because that would’ve been far too embarrassing for her to bear. She was just so accustomed to seeing Kiyoko in her school uniform or her manager tracksuit that Yachi hadn’t even considered what she’d wear on the weekends - or how  _ beautiful  _ she’d look. 

Kiyoko smiled at her, and that made Yachi’s heart race as her cheeks burned and her knees went weak as Kiyoko stopped in front of her. “You look very nice, Yachi,” Kiyoko murmured, and Yachi nodded dumbly for a moment before the words registered, before she managed to find words as her cheeks burned and she tugged at her tank top. 

“Y-you look great too, Kiyoko.” 

That just made her tiny smile widen as her gray eyes flicked over Yachi before they settled on her face. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Y-yeah! I’m ready.” 

“Okay. Do you mind if I hold your hand?” It was baffling how  _ calm _ Kiyoko could be, because Yachi could barely focus, let alone breathe in her presence, and she couldn’t even think past staring for hours and hours on end. She nodded wordlessly, vigorously, as Kiyoko flashed her that little smile and reached out. Her hand was small, rough from all the years as a volleyball manager and from the gardening Yachi knew she did, but her hand was still soft and warm. Their fingers curled together, interlocked, and Yachi was certain her heart would beat out of her chest or that steam would pour out off her ears because she was so hot. But Kiyoko looked calm and happy, perfectly at ease with Yachi’s hand in her’s.  _ Oh my God. This is happening _ . And that made another smile burst out, wide and excited despite the nerves in her stomach, as they worked their way through the crowd. 

She let Kiyoko lead her along, totally blind as to their destination, but she didn’t mind. It wasn’t like Kiyoko would take her anywhere that wasn’t nice - it just wouldn’t be like her if she did. They stopped outside an ice rink and Kiyoko glanced at Yachi as she stared up at the sign, mouth open. “Is this okay?” 

Yachi’s head snapped back to Kiyoko so fast that her neck twinged, and the blonde winced before she nodded, her smile bright. “Yeah! I’ve never gone ice skating before.” 

Slender brows arched up in surprise, and then Kiyoko smiled faintly, just enough to see a hint of dimples in her cheeks. “That’s good. C’mon.” 

The cool inside was a shock after the warmth outside, and Yachi shivered and pressed closer into Kiyoko’s side as she strode up to the desk, cool and confident.  _ God, how the heck did I manage this? _ They got their skates, the blades covered by blocks of plastic, and Kiyoko nudged her gently, eyes bright, as they made their way to the rink. It wasn’t very crowded, but there were enough people that Yachi swallowed nervously as they toed their shoes off and slipped the skates on. 

“I still don’t know how to skate…” 

“It’s okay. I do, and I can teach you. Have you ever rollerskated?” Yachi nodded, throat dry, as she studied the ice. She didn’t have long to be anxious about it because Kiyoko tugged her up with a smile and led her onto the ice. Even with the plastic covers she was wobbly, but it was worse when they took those off and stepped onto the ice. Yachi nearly tumbled to the ground the second she stepped on the ice, but Kiyoko kept her upright, even as she laughed a little. “Are you nervous?” 

“Y-yeah.” 

Warm fingers laced with hers, and Yachi felt her cheeks flush as she glanced up at Kiyoko, then at their feet, then back to her face. “It’s alright. Everyone falls. You’ve just got to get back up.” 

And the confidence in Kiyoko’s gaze bolstered Yachi, gave her strength as she squeezed her hands. “I will.” 

“Good.” The smile that came with that lone word made Yachi’s stomach twist with excitement. So much that she barely even noticed when they started to move - it wasn’t until she saw the border walls creep past that she realized and her breath caught, but she managed to stay upright and balanced. She wasn’t entirely sure if that was because of her own determination or because of Kiyoko’s solid grip on her hands, but she was positive that it didn’t matter. 

“Yachi,” Kiyoko murmured, “When you skate what you want to think about is keeping your feet shoulder-width apart - be steady, like Nishinoya, though you don’t have to go so low.” Yachi nodded, and when Kiyoko paused their glide she slowly shuffled her feet apart until they were shoulder-width, and Kiyoko’s face scrunched up with a tiny little smile. “Good. Now try to move your right foot. Push it out and forward.” Yachi nodded and tried, a little uncertain at first, but she repeated the motion at Kiyoko’s urging, and then did the same with the other foot. And, surprisingly, it was only a few minutes before they began to glide along, and only a few more after that Kiyoko moved from in front of Yachi to beside her, their hands still firmly locked together. 

Yachi was breathless, her feet still wobbly, but she kept moving, eyes firm on the ground. It wasn’t until she glanced up at Kiyoko and saw that bright, proud smile that she stumbled, but she couldn’t even find it in herself to care. Not when Kiyoko ducked down with her, tugged her back up, and pecked her nose with a smile and a giggle that left Yachi dizzy and as high as the clouds.  _ I can’t believe this _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaking love these two and yet I procrastinated until today to write it


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - AU  
> Asanoya  
> Ghost AU

The boy was ten when he and his family moved into Noya’s home. He was small, though he was still almost as tall as Noya, and his hair was shaggy, hanging in front of his eyes. Noya scowled and leaned against the windowsill as he toed the floorboards underfoot, listless and frustrated. He was tempted to play tricks - lock the doors, open windows, misplace things - but they looked like the type who'd bring a priest, and all that brought was agony. So he held still, watched and waited as the boy, his parents, and seven big men in yellow shirts slowly unloaded the moving van. 

They gave the boy smaller things, little boxes filled with trinkets and clothes and cloths and God knew what else, and he moved them with a set face. Not quite a smile, not quite a scowl. He just looked nervous. But he also looked interesting in how he darted around periodically, a big smile on his face before one of his parents snapped on him and his shoulders slumped and he trudged back over to fetch another box. 

He wasn't sure how much time passed before feet landed on the steps, heavy and slow. The door opened a minute later and Noya stared, apathetic, as two men stomped in with a low bed frame in their hands. Their eyes glossed right over him - hell, one of them even stepped through him as they maneuvered the frame until it was stretched out beneath the window, the head of the bed tucked into the corner. A mattress came up next, and then a dresser. 

Noya watched them come and go, listened to them grunt and huff as they hauled things through the house. And then the noises stopped. The moving truck drove away, left the chunky red van and the low black car in the driveway of Noya’s home. And the new occupants were down below. Right until more footsteps reached him, quieter, and a little sniffle. 

The bedroom door eased open and Noya tucked his legs in tighter, the mattress soft beneath his feet. Softer than anything he'd felt for months, but it wasn't like he could really  _ feel _ it. The boy nudged the door open, his head down and a box cradled in his hands. He shuffled forward and dropped it at the foot of his bed - and then he froze. Brown eyes flicked up, widened when they landed on Noya - and Noya froze too. And then he smiled, let out the breath he'd been holding. The boy couldn't see him,  _ no one _ \- “Who are you?” 

_ Fuck _ . The boy looked scared, but he didn't move, and his eyes were  _ definitely _ on Noya. And the young man felt something in his heart twist as faint tremor worked through him. “You can see me?” 

“Yeah, of course.” The boy's eyes widened even more, but rather than turn and scream and run away he stepped closer. “Are you… dead?” 

“That's rude,” Noya teased, and the boy's face fell until Noya sighed and nodded. “Sorry. Yeah. I… forgot how to deal with people. You're the first in thirty years to see me.” 

“I'm sorry,” the boy murmured, and he genuinely looked it. It was strange, baffling. And Noya  _ liked _ it.  _ Hated  _ it. He was used to the silence, to having eyes slide past. And yet some little kid stood a few feet away who could see him, who  _ wanted _ to talk to him. It was  _ strange _ . But the boy thrust a hand out before he could say anything. “I'm Asahi Azumane. I'm ten.” 

Noya eyed the hand warily, then the boy. “You can't touch ghosts.” 

“I can! See?” Asahi leaned forward and poked Noya in the calf, and the ghost gasped, recoiled. His touch was  _ fire _ , burning along his skin and radiating out from where he'd touched. But it didn't hurt - it  _ warmed _ . It made him feel  _ solid _ . And Asahi looked like he'd expected it, like he'd known Noya would lunge forward and grab his hand and close his eyes, practically purring at the warmth, and the sensations.  _ I feel alive _ . 

“My name is Yuu Nishinoya. Call me Noya. I was seventeen.”

* * *

 

Asahi had no friends and Noya couldn't exactly leave the property, so while his parents were at work Asahi dragged Noya through the house. He told Noya about all the little trinkets they had: the little ceramic elephant from India that his parents had gotten on their honeymoon; a perfectly round, white vase with pink cherry blossoms painted on it from Japan; glasses from Canada; little nesting dolls from Russia. 

Noya was more interested in the pictures - he'd been confined to the house for so many years, and the grainy photographs he'd seen in school hadn't been nearly enough. When Asahi had told Noya about “Google Maps” Noya had been ecstatic. For nearly a week while Asahi slept Noya had clicked his way around the world and drunk in all the sights he'd never get to truly see. That had made him bitter, but the taste had faded quickly, and Noya had continued to explore for hours until he crawled into bed behind Asahi and threw his arm over the young boy, held him close and relished in the warmth, the heartbeat. 

Their days were filled with Noya showing him all the little nooks and crannies of the house. There was a hidden room that they cleaned together and furnished, a little Spartan but still cozy. And safe. Then the loose floorboards that Asahi could hide things beneath. The little overrun garden on the edge of the property, strangled with weeds and rampant roses. Those and a dozen other things filled up the hot summer days as cicadas whirred and Asahi’s laughter filled the empty house and yard. 

Noya wasn't particularly excited when Asahi started school - that meant more boredom - though it wasn't long before Asahi started to write him little notes or drew him things and left him notebooks so he could write and draw. It sucked more when he started to bring friends over, but Noya could deal. 

The years slurred together like that, games of blackjack and Go Fish, hide and seek and tax drawing games and ones where they only wrote messages. Days were good: Asahi came home with sunny smiles and bursting with stories, and his mother or father would pat his head. Days were bad: Noya would ‘wake up’ to sobs, and Asahi would be tucked beneath his bed or in the little hidden room, red marks on his body where bruises still had yet to fade. And Noya knew a lot of those didn't come from school or from Asahi’s natural clumsiness. But for the most part they were okay. 

One day Asahi came home with a volleyball, and Noya lit up - it had been far too long since he'd touched one, and when they could they practiced together. Asahi worked his serves and spikes, Noya worked his receives, and Asahi looked so surprised to see how  _ good _ he was. Being dead obviously didn't rob someone of skills - just their sanity. But with Asahi it was easier to keep, though some days were fuzzy. Sometimes he forgot that Asahi was fourteen, then sixteen. 

Only the long hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and the little stubble and the fucking  _ height _ reminded him. And the way that something about Asahi kept drawing him in. How, when puberty hit Asahi like a freight train, Noya suddenly couldn't look away, particularly when he started to change because  _ shit _ , a kid his age shouldn't have had such nice muscles. How he started to do  _ things _ beneath his covers or in the bathroom, and Noya would pretend that he hadn't heard a thing even though he definitely had and it made him ache too. 

How he started to bring girls over and kissed them, though he never looked happy. And then there was one boy, one Noya could never remember the name of. He didn't want to. He just wanted to trip the boy and those girls down the steps, just like he'd wanted to do to Asahi’s parents. But he didn't. He drowned himself in Asahi’s warm touch. He'd crawl into bed with the young man, press their bodies together, and he didn't even have to tug on Asahi’s arm to get it over his waist. It fell there naturally after so many years, and Noya smiled into the dark every time.  _ Those people will never feel this _ . 

And then Asahi packed his boxes, went to college. Left Noya alone.  _ Again _ .


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - Tears  
> Kenhina  
> Future AU  
> SFW

Shoyo pressed a hand to his cheek and smiled, even as he smudged tears that he couldn't bite back. He'd known he wouldn't be able to hold himself together, but this was completely unexpected. He was practically  _ sobbing _ , but he didn't particularly care. Not when he got to watch Kenma glide down the aisle, serene,  _ beautiful _ . And he wasn't even in his tux. 

“Stop crying,” Tobio grumbled from behind him, and a little laugh bubbled out of Shoyo as he shook his head. He  _ couldn't _ , not with the ring around his finger and butterflies in his stomach and the big day only twenty-four hours away. The tears really should have been saved for the next day, for when he finally got to kiss Kenma and make it official, to let the world know that  _ he _ was married to  _ Kenma Kozume _ , but he didn't want to save them.  _ I'm too happy _ . 

Joy churned his stomach, left him breathless as Kenma moved through the short-cropped grass. Leaves fluttered down, green and full, and Kenma spared a glance up as he drew closer, closer. And then he was right in front of Shoyo. His eyes were damp too, but he'd managed to hold them back, and his lips were curled up into as tiny smile. 

“Hey, Sho.” 

“Hey there Kenma,” he sniffed quietly as he reached up and plucked a leaf out of Kenma’s hair. He'd let it go back to black years before and it suited him - framed his face, brought put his liquid gold eyes, make him look even paler like porcelain. And Shoyo just wanted to cup his face and kiss him already, wanted to shove cake into it and laugh and sip champagne and tumble into a nice car with  _ “JUST HITCHED” _ scrawled on the back. But instead he caught Kenma’s hands and they glanced at the priest, who smiled at them. 

“Alright guys, after you're up here we'll read the vows - you've both prepared your own, correct?” 

“Yes,” they chorused with a glance at each other. He knew Kenma’s were done - he'd told Shoyo as much. Shoyo’s consisted of wadded up balls of paper that filled the wastebasket by his desk, and that terrified him. No words felt right, like they could encompass every little thing that Shoyo loved.  _ There's just so much _ . 

He wiggled his hand free and wiped his eyes as the priest ran through what else there would be in the official ceremony, and Shoyo barely heard a word he said. He didn't even realize the priest was finished until Kenma gently tugged on his hand and led him back down the aisle. Everyone gathered around them when they reached the end - Tobio, Shoyo’s parents, Natsu, Tetsuro, Koutarou, Kenma’s parents, their grandparents - and tugged them into big hugs. 

“One more day,” someone whispered into his ear, and Shoyo nodded dumbly, dazed. 

He and Kenma were passed around from one set of arms to another until he collided with Kenma, and those slender arms settled around his waist as he wrapped Kenma up in a tight embrace. A smile snapped into place, sunny and sure, but Kenma couldn't see because Shoyo buried his face into those dark tresses, but he knew Kenma could feel the way he trembled. “Kenma,” he breathed, “I really love you.” 

“Well I'd hope so since you're marrying me.” 

Laughter spilled out from around them, and maybe it was just the thought of all that was going to happen, but Shoyo felt  _ weightless _ as he let his hands fall, then caught Kenma’s hands. A kiss to each finger, still calloused from his days of volleyball, to palms sweet with the scent of lotion. “I think I know what I'm going to write.” 

“About time,” Kenma smiled, and his fingers curled over Shoyo’s hand, locked them together for a moment before he let his hands fall free. And Shoyo just grinned when he stepped in and scooped Kenma off his feet, the movements well practiced. And so were the soft kisses he peppered across Kenma’s cheeks, forehead, lips, with soft “I love you”s breathed between. 

That night, when they took Kenma to Tetsuro’s house - “Might as well keep with the tradition of separating the spouses,” he'd teased, and even Tobio had agreed - Shoyo found a new sheet of paper and wrote.

_ “Kenma, you are my everything. If I am your light, then you are my dark, and I think that's a pretty good compliment to each other. I love all the little pieces that make you Kenma - trust me, there are too many to count or list. God knows I've tried. I can't tell you how much I love you, so Kenma, let me give you my life instead, because that's the only way I know how to show you just how much I love all those little pieces that make you who you are. Forever.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these two far too much just kill me


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 - Little Crows  
> SFW  
> No ship

“Yo, Hinata! You finally done in the bathroom?” 

Hinata rolled his eyes as he trotted over to where the other third years stood, a caddy of volleyballs beside them. Yachi was the only one missing, though he knew where she was - he'd passed her on the way in, kindly filling up water bottles before practice. “You're an ass, Kageyama,” he muttered with a shake of his head. 

Tsukishima snorted, but when Kageyama shot a glare at him he looked away, his expression a disturbing combination of innocence and amusement. It was still enough to make Hinata and Yamaguchi laugh though, and Kageyama threw his hands up with a huff. “I can't believe I tolerate you all.” 

“You don't have a choice, Mr. Captain,” Tsukishima said with a smirk, “After all, Hinata’s the only one stupid enough to try and hit your tosses.” 

“Lies!” Hinata broke in. “You hit them too.” 

“Now that he finally tosses like I want. I-” Yamaguchi’s hand came down on Tsukishima’s back with a loud smack that resounded through the gym, and Kageyama grinned as laughter bubbled out of Hinata. The tall blond scowled at them and hissed in pain, but Yamaguchi just beamed at his friend and smacked him on the back once more for good measure. 

Even after three years Hinata was surprised to see how close they'd grown. He knew Kageyama and Tsukishima would  _ never _ be friends, but they had settled into some antagonistic relationship that only Yamaguchi could interrupt through words or, as he'd learned from Sugawara, a good blow somewhere on the body. And, considering how Yamaguchi’s serves had reached a strength Hinata had last seen with Oikawa, it was quite terrifying. Despite that, they got along well. When their upperclassmen had departed they hadn't floundered for structure or leadership. Kageyama had unanimously been put up for the position, and he had taken to it well.  _ Too bad the Great King and his old teammates can't see him now _ . 

A finger poked his temple, prodded him out of his thoughts, and Hinata blinked and refocused. Kageyama scowled at him, but it was easy-going, not nearly as intimidating as it had once been. “Stop spacing out, idiot. The first years will be here soon.” 

“I know,” Hinata murmured as he smacked Kageyama’s hand to the side. He brightened up a second later though, a grin on his lips as he turned to the other two third years. “It's gonna be great, isn't it? We've got so many people wanting to join this year!” Four third years, six second years, and eleven applications from hopeful first years. 

“Let's hope they're good,” Tsukishima grumbled, but even that cynical comment couldn't bring Hinata down. Though, naturally, the next comment out of Tsukishima’s mouth managed it. “Maybe one of them will actually be shorter than you.” 

“ _ Rude _ .” He couldn't help that though - he hadn't grown, not even a measly  _ millimeter _ , and that was a fact that Hinata grumbled about every time he remembered it. It didn't help that Tsukishima had only grown taller and neared two meters, while Yamaguchi and Kageyama had gained height as well. Only one person was remotely close to Hinata’s height, and that was their libero, and that was still a ten centimeter gap. “You guys are just giants!” 

Tsukishima and Kageyama just smirked at him while Yamaguchi patted his shoulder sympathetically, and Hinata shuffled closer to him. “Yama, you're the only nice one here!” 

“You're just saying that because I don't make fun of your height or hit you.” 

“Exactly!” 

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes and ruffled Hinata’s hair before he reached back to tie his own back into a little ponytail. The door rattled open and they all glanced over as the second years stepped in and called their hellos - and then a loud voice and something made them scatter. Someone flung themselves inside with a loud whoop of joy, hands in the air and legs tucked into their chest. A first year. Kageyama snorted behind Hinata, and the spiker glanced back with a grin. “I'm glad I didn't have an entrance like that.” 

“Right,” Yamaguchi laughed, “You and Kageyama just fought and were almost kicked out! Or Kageyama wouldn't have been able to set.” 

The captain groaned and buried his face into his hands. “Don't remind me,  _ please _ . I still want to kill Hinata for that.” 

He just blew a kiss at Kageyama and flicked a middle finger and mouthed “traitor” at Yamaguchi. They tossed him a scowl and a smile in return, and Hinata laughed. Slowly but surely more people filtered in. Something in his chest tightened as he watched. They shook hands with each other and chattered, they waved at Yachi and crowed about their luck, they eyed the third years, intrigued. 

Karasuno had grown, had turned into something far greater than Hinata could have imagined when he'd first joined. Their success in his first and second years had encouraged more people to come to the home of the once flightless crows, and they were on the verge of becoming a powerhouse strong enough to rival even Tokyo’s best.  _ I want to see that _ . He turned back to his fellow third years, chest tight and something in his eyes burning. “Guys,” he whispered, voice hoarse, “I can't wait for the first practice match.” 

They met his dangerous grins with ones of their own. And, for a moment, Hinata felt like he could  _ soar _ , even with his feet firmly planted on the ground.  _ This year is going to be phenomenal _ . And with that in mind he and the other third years trotted over to the underclassmen, ready to start another phenomenal season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *heavy breathing* _third years_  
>  Guuuys I can't believe this is over :') I had so much fun with these week, so if you loved it as much as I did please leave a comment on your favorite chapter(s)!! I thrive off of them, and they really encourage me to put out works faster!  
> Follow me at flightswrites on tumblr or on here to keep up to date with what I'm posting!  
> Thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at my personal (fairylights101) or my writing blog (fairylights101writes) on tumblr!  
> Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day/night/existence!


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